


LM-100J

by Lothiriel84



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 18:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10341315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: It's not flirting, until it is.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fractionallyfoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractionallyfoxtrot/gifts), [YellowBananaOwl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBananaOwl/gifts).



He hadn’t planned on it, honestly. He was about to thank Martin for the lift, wish him a good night – and then it happened. A yawn, and then another – as private Martin liked to keep his side job, Karl had seen him before, driving furniture across Fitton in between scheduled flights, far too often at the expenses of a much deserved rest.

“I can make you a coffee, if you like?” and it was only after he said it out loud that he wondered if Martin would perchance read too much in an otherwise spontaneous offer.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble,” Martin hesitated briefly, before killing the engine and falling in step behind him.

Karl had to quietly remind himself that this had more to do with the Captain’s caffeine intake, and less with the fact that he might or might not appreciate his company. It had been nice of Martin to offer him a lift in the first place, but then again Arthur would have been quicker to volunteer if he hadn’t been having a little too much fun with his hoovering duties.

He focussed on brewing a nice hot cup of coffee instead, and very nearly jumped when Martin broke the silence at last.

“That’s – a Lockeed Martin LM-100J,” the Captain muttered, a curious mixture of excitement and awe clear in his voice. His eyes were fixed on the framed picture, almost as if he was expecting the aircraft to suddenly take life and fly away.

“Yup. That’s my favourite,” he replied without thinking, only just remembering to turn around in a half-hearted attempt to hide the extravagant blush he knew was colouring his cheeks. There was a very specific reason why he favoured that plane, and he fervently hoped Martin wasn’t observant enough to figure out as much.

(Not when he still had no idea whether Martin even swung that way, let alone if he would ever consider him a potential romantic interest on the off chance he did.)

“So, um – how do you take your coffee?”

“Black, no sugar,” Martin uttered, slowly, and he could swear there was a puzzled note to his tone. “I prefer tea, actually, but I find it doesn’t work as well when it comes to keeping me awake.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded, for a lack of anything better to say. He placed the mug on the counter, then turned to dig a few biscuits out of the cupboard.

“You didn’t have to make me coffee,” Martin blurted out when the silence stretched for longer than was entirely comfortable. “I know I’m not good company – not for lack of trying, that is.”

That was when Karl stopped rummaging through the cupboard, and finally turned to face the Captain. “I – wanted to. I just – did.”

“Oh,” Martin murmured, realisation dawning on him at length. “You mean – what do you mean?”

“Whatever it is you want it to mean,” Karl shrugged, half expecting the other man to bolt for the door and leave without as much as a goodbye.

“Oh,” Martin repeated, taking a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of him. In his uniform shoes he was only an inch shorter than Karl was, and his freckles looked even prettier that close.

“And how do you take your coffee, I wonder?” the Captain managed somewhat huskily, right before Karl had to grab him by the lapels of his jacket, and give it his best shot at kissing him senselessly.  

His car might as well break down every other day if it meant he got to do this.


End file.
